<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>the comfort of you by luvboys</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29852826">the comfort of you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvboys/pseuds/luvboys'>luvboys</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Angst, Flustered Crowley (Good Omens), Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, I'll be adding more tags as I go, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, well more like unspoken lovers to spoken lovers but u get it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:26:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29852826</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvboys/pseuds/luvboys</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”<br/>“Yes, you are. And I’m glad for it.”<br/>“Me too.”</p><p>--------------</p><p>After Armageddon doesn't happen, Crowley and Aziraphale have some feelings that finally need sorting out. Not that they didn't need sorting out before, but coming close to the end of the world can change your outlook on things. Along the way, they discover that Crowley likes to cuddle in his sleep, and Aziraphale is strong willed in the face of hellish powers attempting to kill him.</p><p>[ON HOLD UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello! i'm basing this almost completely on the tv show, though some tidbits from the book may pop up here and there. i hope you enjoy! also this is unbeta'd, so apologizes for any errors i might have missed.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“But think about it, Aziraphale,” the demon, Crowley, reasoned. “Once we deal with our bosses we’ll finally be free from it all! We could, y’know, properly hang out, free of paranoia.”<br/>
Aziraphale was close to being successfully tempted, but was still on the fence. “Yes, well, we aren’t really friends, are we.” Of course, truthfully, there was nothing more he wanted than what Crowley had proposed. He would most likely be content to have tea with Crowley for the rest of eternity. That thought scared him, so he did his best to avoid admitting serious attachment to the demon. There was an unspoken understanding that Aziraphale’s persistent attempt to nullify their friendship had no real weight behind it.</p><p>Crowley rolled his eyes. “Oh come off it, we’re practically dating.”<br/>
Aziraphale was quiet for a moment. Crowley froze and looked a bit horrified with himself. In all the years they’ve been friends, the <i>six thousand years they’ve been friends</i>, neither of them has said anything like this.<br/>
“Well- I mean-“ he stuttered. “I didn’t- Not like <i>that</i> y’know, I just-“<br/>
“It’s alright. I know what you mean,” Aziraphale interrupts, a secret grin tugging at the corner of his lips.<br/>
Crowley doesn’t know how to respond to this. “Ah. Yes. Right.” He clasps his hands and rocks back on his heels, letting awkward silence fill the air.</p><p>Crowley cursed himself. Not literally, of course, but he had managed to keep his thoughts on his and Aziraphale’s relationship under wraps for close to six thousand years and just happened to let it slip in a moment of mental weakness. <i>A high stakes day of trying to save the world will do that to you</i>, he supposes. He was quite annoyed with himself. Although, it seemed Aziraphale was somehow unshaken by the statement. What does “I know what you mean” even <i>mean</i>? That is to say, what did Aziraphale <i>think</i> it meant? It was all a bit much to unpack on the same day you witnessed an eleven year old boy stand up to literal Satan, so he decided to stuff it away in a corner of his mind to analyze later. </p><p>They had just arrived at the bus stop, waiting for a postman to pick up some non-Earthly artifacts, as well as their ride back to London. As it so happens, earlier in the day they stopped the world from ending. Well, they had had a hand in helping stop the end of the world, to be exact. It was mostly a young boy called Adam and his three friends, but Aziraphale and Crowley were certainly there for it. In the course of events leading up to that, however, Aziraphale’s beloved bookshop and subsequent flat had been set aflame and left to burn, leaving Aziraphale temporarily homeless. </p><p>They both sat down and waited. The postman came and went and left them own. “Well, I suppose I must be getting back to the bookshop.” Aziraphale sighed as he sat down. Crowley joined him on the bench, with a bit of a worried look on his face. Carefully, he reminded Aziraphale, “It’s burnt down, remember?” A look of dawning comprehension settled into Aziraphale’s eyes.<br/>
“Ah, yes. That’s right.”<br/>
“You’re welcome to stay at my place until you sort out what to do, if you like.”<br/>
Aziraphale would very much like that, if he was being honest with himself, but he still felt somewhat hesitant. “I don’t think the fellows upstairs would much appreciate that.”<br/>
Crowley rested one spindly leg on the knee of the other, an arm stretched across the back of the bench, “Well, neither of us have much of a side anymore, angel. It’s just the two of us now.”<br/>
Aziraphale contemplated this. He gave a slight nod and said nothing else. On the outside, he seemed quite relaxed about the situation, but in reality he was remarkably nonplussed by it all. He needed some time to collect himself, even if it was just a moment or two before the bus arrived. About five minutes passed until they saw the headlights of the bus coming around the bend. Aziraphale furrowed his brows slightly, “It says Oxford.” Crowley nodded. “Right, but it’ll take us to London anyway.”</p><p>They climbed on board, Crowley first. He collapsed into a window seat, leaving space for Aziraphale to sit next to him. Of course, he did. In a moment of bravery, or perhaps weakness, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in his as he plopped down next to him. Crowley sat up a bit from his crumpled, sleepy lean against the window. He felt his cheeks warm in pleasant surprise and searched Aziraphale’s face for an answer. Aziraphale only looked ahead and said nothing. It was a bit of a drive from Oxfordshire to London, and the events of today were starting to catch up with Crowley. Although entities such as angels and demons don’t need to sleep, this human habit had wormed its way into the list of mannerisms he had picked up while on Earth. It was one of the many things Aziraphale found endearing about him. Much as Crowley would hate to admit it, he really was fond of humans and their silly little rituals. As Crowley dozed off against the window, hand still snugly intertwined with the angel’s, Aziraphale watched him in silent adoration and thought to himself, <i>Maybe things really will turn out alright</i>.</p><p>・・・</p><p>The bus was ten minutes away from Crowley’s flat when he woke up. He immediately noticed his hand was still in Aziraphale’s, resting atop his leg. Aziraphale was looking out the window across from him and hadn’t yet noticed Crowley was awake. Crowley shifted and rolled his shoulders back in discomfort. Aziraphale turned to him and gave a soft chuckle.<br/>
Crowley had a crick in his neck and was not amused. “What is it,” He deadpanned.<br/>
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows in amusement, “Nothing, nothing.”<br/>
“My neck hurtsssss,” Crowley half whined, half hissed. He also had the habit of slipping slithery S’s back into his vocabulary when he was feeling particularly put out, and only when it was just the two of them. Although not a human quirk, it was nonetheless something Aziraphale was deeply fond of. Crowley released his hand from Aziraphale’s and stretched upwards, eyes squeezed tight and eyebrows furrowed, like a grumpy cat getting woken up from a nap in the sun. Although, Crowley would argue a nap on a bus was much less restful. He lifted his sunglasses to rub the sleep from his eyes and pretended not to notice the way Aziraphale softened at the sight of it. Aziraphale always did have a weak spot for Crowley’s eyes and cursed him, in the most angelic way possible, for constantly covering them up with. Sure, in public it was understandable. It was a different story altogether when it was just the two of them and he wished so badly Crowley would just forgo them.<br/>
“Well, falling asleep on the bus doesn’t seem the most comfortable.”<br/>
Crowley hummed in response.<br/>
“But you are rather cute when you sleep,” Aziraphale added, a mischievous grin tugging at the corner of his lips.<br/>
Crowley went pink in the face, eyes wide, and slide down a bit in his seat. “That’s not fair,” He mumbled.<br/>
“And why’s that?”<br/>
“Well… I’ve never seen you sleep, have I?”<br/>
“It’s not my fault I didn’t develop the human habit of closing my eyes and willingly going unconscious, now is it?”<br/>
“Suppose not,” Crowley grumbled. </p><p>The bus slowed to a stop outside Crowley’s building.<br/>
“So, I would assume you’re coming up?”<br/>
“Ah, yes, I guess that would be the wisest decision given I have no where else to be.”<br/>
“Right then, budge over so I can lead the way.”<br/>
They climbed off the bus, stretching out stiff joints, and Crowley sent it back to Oxford with a wave of his hand. When the bus would arrive, the driver and its three passengers had no recollection of a detour and were thoroughly confused as to how they lost almost two hours of time.</p><p>Back in Mayfair, the pair was in the lift up to Crowley’s flat. Aziraphale had only been there a handful of times and never ventured past the front room. There hadn’t been a need for him to do so. It was sleek and modern, but didn’t seem very lived in. Crowley thought it was just fine (“It passes for a flat, doesn’t it?”), but it was nothing like the bookshop. Although he would rather get discorporated than admit he had a fondness for Aziraphale’s style. </p><p>The lift slid open a couple strides away from Crowley’s front door, which he unlocked and swung open with a small snap. He kicked off his shoes, motioning for the angel to do the same. Aziraphale took a second to neatly line up both pairs, and Crowley decidedly ignored the the warm, fond feeling that bubbled to the surface as he did so. He made a beeline for the kitchen, ushering Aziraphale along so he didn’t get lost in the maze of grey walls that made up the flat. Once there, he put on a kettle and slumped into a chair at his table, gesturing Aziraphale was welcome to do the same. He looked around. It was another modern piece of furniture, metal rectangular top held up by a horizontal length beam in the middle, and another, thinner rectangular shape as the base. It was as if a snobby ‘H’ had been ordered to lay on its side. The chair was of similar fashion, with dull silver legs and a matching body. Everything in the kitchen seemed that way as well. Pristine, metal, cold. Almost untouched.<br/>
“It’s quite nice, Crowley.”<br/>
He seemed skeptical. “Not too contemporary for you?”<br/>
“Well, I mean, I wouldn’t live here, but that doesn’t mean it’s not nice. It is very clean, I’ll give you that.”<br/>
The kettle whistled angrily and got Crowley out of his chair, pulling two mugs down from the cupboard. He didn’t have to ask how Aziraphale took his tea, he already knew. Milk and two sugars for the angel and only one sugar for the demon. Crowley came back to the table and slid one of the mugs over to Aziraphale, who took a sip and sighed with contentedness.<br/>
“I don’t recall ever telling you how I like it.”<br/>
“Well, hundreds of tea times together has offered up that information to me, I suppose. Do you know how I take mine?”<br/>
“Usually black, but if you’re feeling especially tired you might add a sugar or two.”<br/>
Crowley wasn’t sure why, but the touch of detail made his stomach do a little flip. A good flip. <i>I assume this is what humans call butterflies,</i> Crowley thought, with a touch of disdain.<br/>
“That’s right, well done. I never told you that, so how do you suppose you know?”<br/>
Aziraphale chuckled, “Point taken.”</p><p>A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before Aziraphale lit up with realization and pulled a small, scorched piece of paper out of his pocket.<br/>
Crowley squinted, “What’s that?”<br/>
“It fell out of the Nice and Accurate Prophecies when I gave it back to Anathema. She saw, but didn’t say anything, so I thought it might have something to do with us. I had completely forgotten about it until now.”<br/>
“Well, what’s it say?”<br/>
Aziraphale cleared his throat.</p><p>“Five thousand and four. When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff ye will be playing with fyre.”</p><p>“Huh. Playing with fire. What do you think it means?”<br/>
“I’m not exactly sure, but we should probably figure it out sooner rather than later. I have a feeling the angels won’t wait long before coming to find me. Same with your lot.”<br/>
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Want another cup?”<br/>
“Please, if you don’t mind.”</p><p>As Crowley made them more tea, Aziraphale reread the prophecy a few more times. </p><p>“Hmm. Faces? Fire? Well, maybe that’s... Or... Hmm,” he muttered. “I think it definitely does have to do with us. Maybe it’s a warning of sorts, something to keep us out of trouble.”<br/>
“A bit late for that, don’t you think?”<br/>
Aziraphale gave a knowing smile, “Yes, well, anything counts. Especially now that there’s no frighteningly powerful young boy to bend the will of uptight archangels and spiteful dukes to protect us.”<br/>
“Yeah, guess so. Right then, any luck?</p><p>They spent the next hour and a half swapping ideas and seemingly getting nowhere, until Crowley looked up with a start and said, “Faces.”<br/>
“What?”<br/>
“Faces! She said faces.<br/>
“Yes, yes, I know. It’s only one sentence, I picked up on that bit, thank you very much.”<br/>
“No,” pressed Crowley, “No, I mean, really, literally, faces!”<br/>
Aziraphale thought for a moment. And then, “No, she can’t mean—“ He gasped.<br/>
“Maybe. Maybe.”</p><p>So far, the most sensible thing they had thought she meant by ‘faces’ was something to do with Facebook, and even then, they both agreed that was quite foolish and didn’t make much sense.</p><p>“Is that even possible?” ventured Crowley.<br/>
“I don’t know, I doubt anyone has ever tried before.”<br/>
“How do we even- I mean, should we just...”<br/>
A moment of silence.<br/>
“Alright,” said Aziraphale, “I’m knackered, and I doubt any sort of miraculous or demonic body swap would work now. Why don’t we get some rest and try tomorrow morning.”<br/>
“Yeah, alright. I don’t think they’ll come knocking at my door right away, so we should be fine for the night.”<br/>
Aziraphale collected the mugs and went to wash them.<br/>
“Oy! Let me! You’re the guest tonight, sit back down.”<br/>
Aziraphale only brushed him off with a, “Don’t be daft. You hate doing the washing up.”<br/>
“Yes, well, alright. Thanks then,” Crowley muttered.<br/>
Aziraphale, with his back to Crowley, grinned in delight. After, Crowley led them back down the hall way, through the front room, down another hallway, and was about to turn the corner when he noticed Aziraphale wasn’t behind him. He turned to see that Aziraphale had stopped in Crowley’s nook of plants.<br/>
“You mention them, boasting on about how pretty they are. After all this time, I didn’t get the chance to admire them up close.”<br/>
Crowley looked a bit sheepish. “Yes. I guess you’ve never really seen my flat before.”<br/>
“They are quite beautiful, just like you said they were.”<br/>
“Alright, al<i>right</i>,” Crowley said, with no real menace,” Don’t give them too much of an ego, otherwise they won’t take me seriously anymore.”<br/>
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing more and joined Crowley at the end of the hall. Before they could move on, Aziraphale saw the statue and his eyes went wide.</p><p>“What’s this?”<br/>
“Just a statue.”<br/>
“Just a statue?”<br/>
“Yes, yes, just a statue.”<br/>
Aziraphale gave him a look.<br/>
“It’s just a statue, alright! Just two angels...wrestling.”<br/>
“Wrestling?”<br/>
“Would you stop bloody repeating me? Yes, they’re wrestling.”<br/>
Aziraphale chuckled. “Alright, if you say so.”<br/>
</p><p>Finally, they turned the corner and Crowley opened a door on the right. The bedroom was quite large, a king sized bed against the far wall, facing them, a desk in the right corner, a plushy arm chair to the right of the door, and there was a small assortments of plants to the left, with a heating lamp hanging from the ceiling. He would have to ask Crowley about that some other time. It wasn’t like the rest of the flat. The desk was wooden and it looked old, lacquer peeling at the corners, with a few tea rings decorating the surface. The chair accompanying it was the same way and it almost looked rickety, on the verge of collapse. The bed as well, an old, dark, wooden frame with a beautifully intricate design along the trim of the headboard. The bedsheets were simple, a sort of tan color, but there were a couple throw pillows to off set the plainness of it. There was even a tan and white tartan blanket resting at the foot of the bed. And the armchair was remarkably similar to one of the ones in the bookshop.<br/>
</p><p><i>Well, fuck,</i> Crowley thought. In all the commotion, he had forgotten about this. Bedrooms could be such a personal thing, telling a story without words. So, sure, he happened to miss Aziraphale and his idiotic tartan aesthetic when he left the bookshop, and, sure, he designed his bedroom to emulate it, but <i>bloody fucking heaven,</i> Aziraphale didn’t have to find out about it. He went a bit pink as Aziraphale let out a small gasp. He cleared his throat and tried to seem nonchalant about it, when Aziraphale interrupted his internal monologue of embarrassment.
“Oh, Crowley,” he sighed, “This is so lovely. I never knew you had a soft spot for cozy decor.”
“I don’t,” snapped Crowley. “Shut up.”
Aziraphale frowned, then let it relax into something softer. He was probably feeling defensive, Aziraphale realized. He surely never expected anyone to visit his flat, let alone his bedroom. At least with the metal exterior he had been keeping up appearances. But here, he had nowhere to hide.</p><p>Before Aziraphale could say anything else, Crowley started rambling on about sleeping arrangements.<br/>
“Okay, well, you can take the bed and I can, erm, I’ll just miracle up a couch and sleep there. King sized bed, it’s nice, you’ll have more than enough room.”<br/>
“Crowley, I don’t sleep, remember? I’ll just miracle myself a book and read while you rest.”<br/>
“Ahh, that’s right.” A pause. “Okay then, guess I’ll be dozing off. Wake me up if anyone tries to discorporate you. And feel free to use the kitchen if you want some more tea.”<br/>
He hesitantly took off his sunglasses and put them on the desk. As much as he’d like to, wearing sunglasses as he slept would not be comfortable.<br/>
“Sure thing. Oh, and Crowley?”<br/>
“Hmm?”<br/>
“Thank you. For letting me stay here tonight.”<br/>
Crowley waved a hand as he pulled back the covers, “Not a problem, angel. See you in the morning.”</p><p>・・・</p><p>It was four in the morning. Aziraphale was settled into the armchair and reading with the aid of a small angelic light in the corner, accompanied with a cup of tea. He was just about to get up and stretch his limbs when he saw Crowley start to twist and turn under the covers. Aziraphale knew very little about what went on during sleep, so he eyed the demon for a few moments before deciding it was probably normal. Until Crowley starting breathing funnily. Short, loud, intakes of air, accompanied by a low groan in the back of his throat. Unsure of what to do, Aziraphale just stood there, starting to worry. Crowley grew louder, seemingly trying to escape the tangle of sheets, “No, please, <i>please</i>, just-“ More panicked breathing. He was practically shouting now. “Leave him alone! Please, don’t- <i>Aziraphale!</i>” This got the angel moving. He didn’t know what to do exactly, but he carefully hovered over the bed, “Crowley? Crowley, wake up. It’s me, Aziraphale. We’re in your flat. There’s nobody else here.” He cautiously reached a hand out to shake Crowley’s shoulder and jumped back in surprise when Crowley sat up suddenly and grabbed Aziraphale’s arm, hissing. His eyes looked unfocused, slitted pupils dilated in the low light. Aziraphale tried again, “Crowley, it’s me. It’s just me. We’re alone. In your flat. It’s me, Crowley. Aziraphale.” This seemed to fully shake Crowley out of the nightmare. He recoiled suddenly once he realized he had been gripping Aziraphale’s arm. He rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, then looked back at the angel with embarrassment and remorse written all over his face. </p><p>“Fuck,” he muttered, “Fucks sake. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Is your arm alright?”<br/>
“Never mind my arm, are you alright? That didn’t seem pleasant in the slightest.”<br/>
Crowley huffed out a laugh, “No, not pleasant. I’m okay though. Didn’t think it would happen tonight, would’ve mentioned it beforehand then.”<br/>
Aziraphale looked aghast, “Didn’t think it would happen tonight- You mean, it’s happened before? What do you mean?”<br/>
“Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about it.”<br/>
“I don’t think I can not worry about it now. Was it a nightmare?”<br/>
Crowley let out a sigh and laid back against the pillows. “Yeah.”<br/>
“And those happen… often, do they?”<br/>
“No, not often. Just when I’m, I don’t know, thinking more than usual.” He turned his head to face Aziraphale. “You look like an idiot standing there. You can lay down, y’know.”<br/>
Aziraphale did, albeit a bit unsurely. He can’t recall the last time he was in a bed.<br/>
“I’m sorry about that, the nightmare. Must not be nice when you have to wake up after that and be alone.”<br/>
“Yeah, suppose you’re right.” Nervously, he continued, “S’nice having you here. Thanks for, y’know, waking me up.”<br/>
“Of course. I couldn’t very well leave you thrashing about, calling my name. You looked… You looked so scared.”<br/>
Crowley balked, incredulous, “I did not. Tell me I did not.”<br/>
“Yes, you did! You couldn’t see yourself, you looked so-“<br/>
“No, no, not that.” Then, meekly, “I didn’t really say your name, did I?”<br/>
“Oh. Well, yes, you did. Shouted it, in fact. You seemed very worried, like someone was hurting you, or me, or both of us.”<br/>
Crowley groaned and ran a hand through his hair.<br/>
“That was indeed what it was about. I guess I’m just a bit high strung at the moment. Worried about what our former colleagues will try to do to us.” A pause. Then, “To you.” </p><p>Aziraphale was touched by this. He knew Crowley didn’t do so well with emotion, with being vulnerable. Crowley must be thoroughly frightened to have admitted he was worried.<br/>
“Oh, Crowley, we’ll be fine. We figured out what to do. I promise, we’ll be alright.”<br/>
“I know. I just keep coming back to the ‘what if’. What if it doesn’t work, what if it that’s not what Agnes meant, what if I-“ He trailed off. A look rested on his face. A look of someone who was scared to admit something. A look that meant he had been thinking about these ‘what ifs’ for far longer than the past couple days.<br/>
“What if, what?” Aziraphale softly asked.<br/>
He turned to face him. Crowley didn’t look like the man-shaped being who walked with confidence oozing off him and sped through London doing ninety milers per hour. He looked tired. Quietly, barely above a whisper, not turning to meet Aziraphale’s eyes, “What if I lose you again?”<br/>
“What do you mean, again? You never lost me. I’ve always been here.”<br/>
Slowly, Crowley said, “No, you weren’t. It wasn’t your fault, but… when I found the bookshop like that, burning…” He sighed, “I thought you died. The flames could’ve been hellfire. I didn’t know where you were. I thought you were dead. It was only for half an hour before I saw, err, felt, your presence at the bar, but that half an hour was dreadful.” Aziraphale was shocked. He hadn’t really considered this. Sure, he knew it had happened, but he didn’t know it scared Crowley as much as it had.<br/>
“I’m sorry, Crowley, I didn’t realize.”<br/>
“S’okay. Like I said, not your fault.”<br/>
“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?”<br/>
“Yes, you are. And I’m glad for it.”<br/>
“Me too.”</p><p>There they were, lying on the same bed, Aziraphale in his usual clothes, minus his coat, which was draped over the back of the armchair, and Crowley, in a silk, dark grey pyjama set, only a hands length apart. It was now half past four and they had been planning on getting up at eight thirty. Sleep was sneaking back over Crowley. As he was about to doze off, Aziraphale made to get up, but stopped when Crowley’s hand shot out to grab him by the wrist. He looked surprised at himself, blush creeping up his neck.<br/>
</p><p>He let go of Aziraphale’s wrist, but hesitantly said, “Sorry. Could you…stay, maybe? You don’t have to sleep, just stay. Next to me.”<br/>
Aziraphale was practically bursting at the seems with adoration. He was right, sleepy Crowley was positively adorable. “Of course, my dear. Of course I’ll stay.”<br/>
Though it seemed impossible, Crowley’s blush reddened.<br/>
“What’s wrong?” asked Aziraphale.<br/>
“Nothing! Nothing,” replied Crowley. “It’s just- I just- Like when you call me that. My dear. Think it’s nice. Don’t laugh.” He was utterly flustered.<br/>
If Crowley looked, he would’ve seen that Aziraphale was smiling so widely his face hurt. “Oh, you are positively endearing. I would never laugh at you. Now, get some sleep, I’ll wake you up in the morning.”<br/>
“M’kay,” was Crowley’s only response. He was smiling too.<br/>
</p><p>Aziraphale miracled the book into his hand and picked up where he left off. Crowley shifted so he was laying on his stomach. The space between them closed seamlessly when he did, and neither of them moved away from the other. And if Aziraphale settled a hand on Crowley’s head to card through his hair as he slept, if Crowley unknowingly leaned into it, well, nobody was the wiser.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i hope you enjoyed the first chapter! not sure how often updates will be as i'm also a full time student. might be once a week. also, i'm not british so i apologize if some of the terminology is wrong. if anything sounds weirdly american please let me know and i'll edit it. kudos and comments are much appreciated :-)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Crowley? Crowley, it’s eight thirty. Best get a move on if we want to have the switch done in the next hour or so.”<br/>
“M’comfy. Shut up. We’ve got time.”<br/>
“Crowley, really,” Aziraphale said with a slight frown, “I can’t even move. If you aren’t going to get up now at least budge over so I can go make us some tea.”</p><p>It was at this moment that Crowley realized, with horror, he was lined up right next to Aziraphale, still on his stomach, with his right arm thrown over Aziraphale’s waist. The angel had his hand in Crowley’s hair, as if he had been petting him throughout the night. It seemed that they had been… cuddling. Crowley went red in the face and scrambled up to lean back on his heels, sheepish. </p><p>“Oh, don’t be silly. No need to be embarrassed.”<br/>
“Sorry, ‘Ziraphale. Didn’t mean to. Was asleep. Didn’t realize.”<br/>
“Of course, of course. Really, you don’t need to apologize. You seemed quite cold, anyway, and I seem to have helped with that.”<br/>
“Right, yeah, cold-blooded and everything. Thanks.”</p><p>Startlingly awake now, Crowley miracled himself into another suave outfit as Aziraphale collected his coat from the armchair. The pair made their way back to the kitchen where they had tea, and Aziraphale had a light breakfast of buttered toast. He might’ve had some eggs as well, but he quickly discovered Crowley’s kitchen was void of anything but the very bare essentials. To which he said, “Oh dear, what do you even eat, Crowley?” Crowley only rolled his eyes, “I rarely eat. And when I do, it’s not as if I’m cooking myself a feast.” He shrugged, “Takeaway, usually.” Aziraphale decided he would have to fuss over that another day. With the dishes done, they decided it was time for the switch.</p><p>“And what happens if we explode?” Crowley asked.<br/>
“Well, then neither of us have to worry about getting tortured by our bosses because we will be dead,” quipped Aziraphale. “Now behave, and give me your hand.”<br/>
Crowley rolled his eyes, “Alright.”</p><p>They joined hands. Although they had never done it before, and supposedly were the first ones in the history of everything to be doing this, it came rather easily. There was no big bang, no electric shock, no pain, nothing out of the ordinary. And it was surprisingly intimate. Of course, that came with the territory of literally swapping corporations, but it felt more than that. It felt like they were enveloped in one another, sharing a secret they didn’t even know they had. For Crowley, it felt strangely like he did when he was in snake form and basking comfortably under his heat lamp. For Aziraphale, it was oddly akin to when he would snuggle up with a perfect cup of tea and one of his favorite books. It felt like home, and comfort, and safety. And in a moment, it was over. They had done it.</p><p>Crowley (who looked like Aziraphale) cleared his throat. “Good job on us, then.” He brought his hand, which was actually Aziraphale’s hand, to his throat, which was actually Aziraphale’s throat, in surprise. “Fuckin’ heaven. I sound like you.” He laughed. “I can curse with your voice! Oh, this is magical.”<br/>
Aziraphale (who looked like Crowley) did not seem amused. “You cut that out right now. Don’t go on a power trip with my face attached to it.” He paused. “Oh my, I do sound, err, or should I say, you do sound rather...odd when your voice says what I’m saying. It doesn’t suit you at all.”<br/>
“No, angel, doesn’t suit you either.” Crowley took an experimental couple of steps. “It’s a good thing we get to practice this. Very strange being in someone else’s body.” He tried stuffing his hands into Aziraphale’s pants pockets and found they weren’t as comfy as his usual outfits. This was going to take some getting used to. Aziraphale felt equally out of place. Which they both were. Literally.</p><p>A good thirty minutes later, and Crowley messing about with Aziraphale’s voice, they were both satisfied enough with each other’s impressions that they decided it was time for a walk in St. James’ Park. </p><p>Once there, neither of them expected it to happen so quickly. Although they had planned ahead and knew this was coming in one way or another, panic seized Aziraphale and Crowley as they saw the other, or, themselves, being dragged away. Crowley’s mind went back to half an hour earlier, before they left the flat, to Aziraphale’s reassurance. </p><p>
  <i>”Crowley, dear, it’ll be alright. I’ll be alright, and so will you. Agnes told us what to do. We followed her prophecy, and we’ll be safe. I promise.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Crowley was pacing. “I know, I know. But I just keep wondering, what if we got it wrong? I don’t want those bastards doing anything to you. I just-“</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Aziraphale reached forward and put his hand firmly on Crowley’s shoulders, stilling him. “Look at me. This is the last we’ll have to deal of them. This is going to work. It has to. Now stop your fretting so we can get a move on.” He cleared his throat and stepped back, motioning for Crowley to lead the way. Before Crowley moved to the door, he hesitantly reached for Aziraphale’s hand. He was frustrated at himself for being so timid. How had Aziraphale taken his hand on the bus so easily? Shaking those thoughts from his mind, he quickly took the angel’s hand in his and give a quick squeeze of reassurance. For the angel, of course. Not for Crowley’s peace of mind. No, definitely not.</i>
</p><p>Now, Crowley was sat in Heaven, tied up by the archangels, awaiting trial by hellfire. Aziraphale was standing before Beelzebub, awaiting trial by holy water. Agnes Nutter must have been one mad, brilliant witch, because everything went smoothly. Or as smoothly as was possible for the circumstances. </p><p>Crowley relished the way Gabriel and the other archangels flinched back as he spat hellfire in their direction. <i>Yeah,</i> he thought, <i>That’s what you get for being a prick to Aziraphale and telling him to ‘shut your stupid mouth, and die already’. Serves Gabriel right, with his stupid purple eyes. Fucking coward. Aziraphale’s going to have a fit when I tell him I breathed hellfire in their direction.</i></p><p>Down below, Aziraphale’s attempted execution was going much more swimmingly. Although he might never admit it, he found it awfully funny to watch Beezlebub and the other demons panic when he stepped into the bath and showed no sign of melting, dissolving, bubbling, or anything of the sort. No discorporation for this lucky demon today. </p><p>Not surprisingly, they were both let go immediately, much to the chagrin of Heaven and Hell. Gabriel and Beelzebub made a silent agreement to never speak of this again and tell everyone who asked that Crowley and Aziraphale had somehow died in the mess of the apocalypse that never was. The demons who were present for Crowley’s failed execution had their minds wiped, and the archangels promised to pretend it never happened. Crowley and Aziraphale were finally free.</p><p>They suddenly found themselves back in St. James’ Park, but they had been separated. Maybe it was Heaven and Hell’s last trick on them, maybe it was just by chance, but they had been sent back at opposite ends of the park. Crowley took a second to revel in the fact he was still alive, with Aziraphale’s body, but he felt his heart drop when he noticed the empty space next to him. Frantic, he went straight back to the ice cream stand where they were first taken. <i>Hell probably dropped Aziraphale off at a different location, not to worry,</i> Crowley thought. He was right, because of course Hell was not very keen on showing any tolerance towards his and Aziraphale’s relationship. But when he reached the ice cream stand, Aziraphale was nowhere in sight. The last thing he wanted to do was call attention to himself, but he was running out of options and panicking. </p><p>“Aziraphale! Aziraphale, where are you?” Crowley yelled. He ran ten paces up the path, ten paces back, spinning in every direction. “Aziraphale, you bloody idiot, where are you? Come back to the ice cream stand. <i>Aziraphale!</i>”</p><p>The angel was currently slumped on a bench in the north east corner of the park. Crowley was certainly right that Hell was not at all tolerant, and they had in fact sent Aziraphale back to Earth with a pounding headache, after being knocked unconscious with some sort of hellish command. The only reason Aziraphale managed to be roused from his stupefied manner was because of the frantic tugging he felt at the edges of where he kept his wings hidden away. The pocket dimension that could never be explained by science, should it be discovered. The place that was intimately familiar to him, as well as one other particular unearthly being. He jolted fully awake, fearful that Crowley was in danger. Standing up suddenly, he nearly toppled over again as a surge of pain flooded his head. He blindly grabbed at the bench and sat back down, doubled over and gasping in quick breaths.</p><p>At this same moment, Crowley felt that tugging sensation as well and started to follow it. A wave of relief washed over him. Aziraphale was back on Earth. They were going to be okay. He all but sprinted in the direction of the pulling, his heart skipping a beat when he finally spotted himself, who was Aziraphale, on a bench at the edge of the park. Quickly, though, the hopeful feeling of finally being safe slipped through his hands as he realized Aziraphale was bent at the waist, grimacing, holding his head in his hands. Crowley rushed to his side, kneeling in front of him. </p><p>“Bastards. Fucking bastards. What happened to you? Where are you hurt? What did they do? Talk to me, ‘Ziraphale. Let me fix you.” Crowley frantically reached up to grip Aziraphale’s hands. “Talk to me, angel. What happened?” Aziraphale laced their fingers together, tears stinging at his eyes. The pain was somehow getting worse. “My head,” Aziraphale said, through gritted teeth. “They did something-“ He sharply gasped in some air, trying to will away the pain. “They did something to my head.” Another deep breath. He was clutching onto Crowley’s hands with a death grip, both their knuckles going white with the pressure. “Hurts, Crowley,” he all but whimpered. </p><p>A million things were running through Crowley’s mind at the present, but his priority was getting Aziraphale to safety. In the blink of an eye, they were back in Crowley’s bedroom. Aziraphale was seated on the bed, Crowley crouched in front of him. </p><p>“Fuck. Okay. Alright. Fuck. First things first. We need to switch back. We don’t know what will happen if we try any miracling or magic or attempts at fixing this when you’re not in the right body. Can you do that for me, angel? Or is it too much?”<br/>
Aziraphale nodded quickly, “S' fine.”<br/>
“Okay, good, right. On my count.”<br/>
Aziraphale nodded again.<br/>
“Alright. Here goes. Three, two, one…”</p><p>They manifested the same feeling they had earlier, but this time, as the swap happened, Crowley was met with a ripple of whatever was affecting Aziraphale. He shuddered painfully, the hellish hurt creeping its way to Crowley’s head. As soon as it started, it passed, but nothing for Aziraphale changed. He was still doubled over, his and Crowley’s hands pressed tightly to his forehead.</p><p>“Okay. Good job, angel,” Crowley said. “And good news. I recognize the pain. It’s definitely hell. Probably a last attempt to get rid of me on my way back. The thing is, because you’re not really a demon, it’s hurting you much more than it would’ve hurt me, and we can’t have that.”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded against Crowley’s hands, “So,” he gritted his teeth through the pain, “can you get rid of it?” </p><p>Crowley knew how to fix it, but he didn’t like the answer. “Yes, I think so. But it might be painful. More painful than what you’re feeling right now. I have to… I’ll have to reach into your essence and untangle the bits of hell that are intertwined with it. It’ll hurt.”<br/>
“S' okay. I can do it. If it’ll work, then do it.” He gasped for another breath of air.</p><p>“I’d probably be best if you laid down. Can you do that?”<br/>
Aziraphale nodded. Crowley moved to help him sit back, but the angel pulled Crowley back with fear when he felt the grip loosen. Crowley’s heart did a somersault.<br/>
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here. Just lend me one hand, you can keep the other one. Okay?”<br/>
“‘Kay,” Aziraphale whispered. “Sorry.”<br/>
“No, none of that. You’ve got nothing to apologize for, you daft thing. I would be scared too. But you’re gonna be okay, you hear me?”<br/>
He gave Aziraphale a soft squeeze before pulling his left hand out of the grip. He moved to swing Aziraphale’s legs up onto the bed, still holding Aziraphale’s other hands with his right one. Now that Aziraphale was situated, here came the complicated bit. </p><p>“Okay. Angel, this is going to be hard. It’s going to be painful, and you’ll want to stop, but I won’t be able to. If I stop halfway through, I might not get another chance at this. I need to pull all of it out together, otherwise I might lose a small piece and it’ll worm its way back into your essence. And that can’t happen. Do you understand?”<br/>
“Yes.” He was shaking now, exhaustion sinking into him. It was getting tiring trying to manage the pain. But he felt safe, with Crowley here. He knew Crowley could fix it. Always coming to his rescue, his kind serpent. “I trust you with my life.”</p><p>Something swelling in Crowley’s chest. Something he had been tamping down over the years. He always knew it was there, but he never let himself truly feel the extent of it. There were too many things to worry about, too much at stake. Now, with neither Heaven nor Hell watching over their shoulder’s, Crowley knew he could let himself feel it. Love. </p><p>Aziraphale stifled a gasp and forced his eyes open, wet with tears of pain. He caught Crowley’s gaze and felt it too. Love. Nothing new, but it was stronger, and so much brighter. It had always been there, since before he could remember, a low level of love floating through the air. He realized now, after all these years, all this time, it had been Crowley all along. That love he felt, starting in the garden. It hadn’t been the ambience of love of all the things in the world, but it was Crowley’s love. Crowley’s love for Aziraphale. </p><p>Aziraphale closed his eyes again, his face smoothing out, and willed the same feeling of love to rise past the pain, past the grip hell had on him at current, and pushed it towards Crowley. He knew demons couldn’t sense love, not anymore, but he needed Crowley to know he felt the same way. The love pouring out of Aziraphale grew until it enveloped the two and settled over them like a soft blanket. Crowley had to be able to feel that, right? And he did. It wasn’t the same as how Aziraphale could sense love, but it was a similar feeling to the tugging he felt earlier in the park. This time, however, it felt like what he had felt the first time they swapped bodies. It felt like home, comfort, safety, heating lamps, white wings shielding him from the rain. It felt like every time something unspoken had passed between them. It felt like the agreement, like the tartan thermos, like all the times Crowley had been there to save Aziraphale, and the way Aziraphale would light up at the sight of the demon before fixing his expression into something safer. It felt like ‘my dear’ and cups of tea, hand holding on a poorly lit bus, like waking up to a warm bed and a soft hand in his hair. It felt like Aziraphale, wholly and truly, his beautiful angel. It surprised Crowley, all of this passing through him in an instant. He felt his eyes well up, frozen, unsure of what to do next. Then Aziraphale seemed to come back down to reality as he grimaced from the pain lacing through his head, gripping Crowley’s hand tighter, if that was even possible. The feeling of love between the two came down from a boil to a simmer, but it didn’t go away.<br/>
</p><p><i>Okay,</i> Crowley thought, <i>guess I’ll have to put that on hold for now. What the fuck.</i> </p><p>“I know you want to keep it forever, but I’m going to need my hand back for this.”<br/>
Aziraphale’s eyebrows knitted together in disappointment, but loosened his grip on Crowley’s right hand all the same.<br/>
“Thank you. Now, I’m going to start. This is going to hurt. But you’ll be okay. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”</p><p>With a concentrated breath, he focused on the edges of Aziraphale’s form, and began.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hiii hope u enjoyed chapter 2! sorry for the slow update and that it's kinda short, things have been a bit hectic with college n everything. this is unbeta'd so i apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors and whatnot. as always, kudos and comments r appreciated :-) hopefully all goes well and crowley and az can properly talk to each other for once... stay tuned!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley had been right. It was definitely worse than whatever Hell had done to him in the first place. Not drastically, but it was a different, more fragile kind of pain. The hell headache had been simple, pure, straightforward. Like hitting your head on something and reeling from the impact, only a hundred times worse. Well, whatever Crowley was doing to fix that pain had brought on something new, something Aziraphale didn’t like. It was delicate and methodical, but not in a good way. When Crowley first reached past the edges of the human, earthly plane they were on and into Aziraphale’s personal essence and form, the shock of it almost caused him to black out. He didn’t, but in desperation of needing something to ground himself, his left hand flew towards Crowley, and settled on gripping into the back of the demon’s leg, the other one clenched into a tight fist. Crowley inhaled in surprise, but did nothing to move Aziraphale away. He was standing up against the edge of the bed, looking over Aziraphale. His eyes were closed. Were they? If you looked in his general direction and not straight at him, they looked open. It seemed somewhat of a trick. (It wasn’t. His eyes were both open and closed, looking into an unearthly realm, closed off to this one.)</p><p>It had been about six minutes since he started. To an outsider, it would like Crowley was trying to weave something out of thin air, or pluck at an invisible string instrument. His hands were poised a couple inches above Aziraphale, seemingly doing nothing but look very odd. But they both knew this was not the case. Although Aziraphale couldn’t see what exactly Crowley was doing, he definitely felt it. It was as if there was gum stuck in his hair, and the only way to extricate it was by methodically separating it from each strand. And if hair had nerve endings. And if the gum was magical and evil and painful and trying to kill you. </p><p>“Nearly there, angel. Just a bit longer.”<br/>
Aziraphale made a small noise of acknowledgment. He wasn’t in the mood for conversation at the moment.</p><p>Crowley was concentrating, and he really was nearly there. Halfway through, he even paused for a moment to take his sunglasses off. Surely, he could have done the whole thing with them on, but he wasn’t taking any chances. At this point he had gotten about seventy percent of it successfully untangled. What looked like air weaving was actually him carefully picking away and unravelling the substance from Aziraphale. He was gathering all the sinewy, sizzling bits of hell in his right hand, then carefully hooking it onto his left hand’s fingers, which were curled in a way that even if it tugged back towards the angel it couldn’t escape. It took about three more minutes for him to finish, meticulously searching for any strands he might have missed. Satisfied, he pulled away from Aziraphale and brought his hands and eyes back to the Earthly plane. Upon doing so, the form of hell that had been working its way through the angel made itself visible. </p><p>“Oh my! <i>That</i> was what was attacking me?”<br/>
“Yep. You’re honestly lucky you lasted as long as you did.”</p><p>They both stared at the thing held neatly in Crowley’s hand. It was a dark, inky substance, but had a sort of texture that was a bit…unplaceable. The second you thought it looked like something you might be able to recognize, it shifted to a different sort of material. </p><p>Without warning, Crowley reached for it with his right hand and set it aflame. The thing started to writhe in protest, but realized the flames were hellfire and stopped fighting, dissolved into ashes, and the ashes disappeared into thin air. </p><p>Crowley made a face and brushed his hands together in finality. He nudged Aziraphale’s legs over and sat on the edge of the bed. He nonchalantly miracled their shoes off and lined them neatly up at the front door, just the way Aziraphale would.</p><p>“How’re you feeling? Better?”<br/>
“Yes. Much. I don’t know how I could ever thank you. Truly, it must not have been easy, and you saved my life,” Aziraphale said sincerely. Then, with a smile, “Very sweet of you, whisking me away to your flat like that, my dear.”<br/>
Crowley felt his insides go gooey and his face heat up. First from feeling flustered, then in embarrassment at blushing from getting flustered. He cleared his throat and in his most nonchalant, this-is-not-getting-to-me-voice, said, “You were practically dying. It seemed like the smart thing to do.”<br/>
Aziraphale only smiled wider and moved off the bed, in desperate need of a cup of tea. Before he could take another step, he stumbled for a moment, trying to gain his balance. Crowley’s arm was around his waist in the blink of an eye, steadying him. </p><p>“Oh my, seems like poison from hell and a good rifling through my other wordly form takes its toll.”<br/>
“Alright, that’s it. I’m not letting you do anything else for the rest of the day except rest. I’ll take care of it all. You need to take it easy.”<br/>
Aziraphale scoffed, “I’m fine, Crowley, really. I just wanted to go make some tea for us. I feel normal.”<br/>
Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Really? So if I let go of you, you could walk to the kitchen, no problem?”<br/>
“Yes. Yes, of course.”</p><p>Skeptical, Crowley let Aziraphale go. The angel gave a small ‘hmph’, brushed off his waistcoat, and started making his way to the kitchen. As they walked, Crowley did not leave his side for a second. Just as Crowley was about to reluctantly admit that Aziraphale seemed fine, the angel stopped short, closing his eyes and reaching out for something to stabilize himself as a rush of dizziness hit him. Crowley wrapped an arm around his waist again, and took Aziraphale’s hand to steady him. </p><p>Before Crowley could say anything, Aziraphale chuckled, “Fine, alright, you win. But I still want tea. Walk with me to the kitchen?”<br/>
“Of course I win, I’m always right,” the demon said with a small smirk. “To the kitchen we go.”</p><p>Once there, Crowley miracled the armchair from his bedroom in place of a chair at the table, facing the stove where the demon had moved to put the kettle on. Aziraphale settled into the armchair comfortably. Crowley leaned suavely against the counter top, hands propped up behind him. It seemed he did everything like that, with an air of charm. </p><p>“I told you it would work.”<br/>
“That you did. I’m gonna be honest, I’m surprised.”<br/>
“Yes, you had your abundant doubts.”<br/>
“Well, one of us had to be critical! Definitely wasn’t gonna be you, with your overly trusting nature and everything.” Despite the banter, there was a look of fondness on Crowley’s face.<br/>
“Quite. And you were right, too. We really weren’t prepared for,” he gestured at himself, “all that.”<br/>
“That’s right!” At this point Crowley had pushed off the counter and was now waving his hands about in true Crowley fashion. “No thanks to bloody Agnes for warning us about that. You could’ve died. You could’ve— Just wait until I get my handsss on whoever did this to you.” His eyes narrowed. “It was probably Hastur, that nasssty prick. I always hated him, y’know. Jusst thinking about him going anywhere near you makesss me want to ssscream.”</p><p>(In addition to Crowley’s hiss announcing itself when he was feeling particularly put out, it did so when he was feeling particularly angry as well. In fact, heightened emotion seemed to evoke the hiss in general.)</p><p>“Crowley! Please, calm down. Your scales are… and I’m alright. No need to worry anymore.”</p><p>Crowley looked down at his hands, surprised. Aziraphale was right, his scales were starting to show on the backs of his hands. That was new. He hastily willed them to disappear. </p><p>“Besides, they thought I was you.”<br/>
“Oh. Right.” Crowley had actually forgotten about that, “Well. I look like an idiot.”<br/>
“It’s quite endearing, actually.”</p><p>Crowley did not know how to respond to that and was about to make an even bigger fool of himself by trying to stumble through a semblance of a response, but was luckily saved by the kettle whistling.</p><p><i>Thank fuck,</i> Crowley thought, as he quickly turned around to hide his reddening face and make their tea. A minute passed in comfortable silence as Aziraphale watched Crowley, just as he had the night before. It was a sight to behold, Aziraphale realized. Crowley, in all his practiced elegance, puttering around the kitchen in his (bright pink!) socks, grabbing milk from the fridge, sugar from the cupboard, just making tea. When he was done, he turned back to Aziraphale, mugs in hand, to find the angel positively glowing with fondness. </p><p>“What?” Crowley asked, his face starting to heat up.<br/>
“Oh, nothing,” Aziraphale was still beaming, “It’s a good look on you, that’s all.”<br/>
“What is?” He set the tea down in front of them as he sat down.<br/>
“Domesticity. Making tea. In your socks.”<br/>
Crowley was silent, eyes wide.<br/>
“It’s just that, oh, with all the time we’ve spent together, I can’t remember if I ever saw you like this. You just seem so… relaxed. It’s wonderful.”<br/>
Crowley was sure he was red in the face. No hiding from this one.<br/>
“Uhhhyeah. Yes. I get what you mean. I mean— I am. Well. I am relaxed. Being with you, just makes me— Y’know. And I like making tea. For you. Uhm. Thanks, I think.”<br/>
Aziraphale laughed fondly.<br/>
“You’re quite welcome, Crowley. And thank you for the tea.”<br/>
“Mm-hmm. No problem.”<br/>
“You even took off your spectacles for me.”<br/>
Crowley had forgotten, actually, with Aziraphale getting up to make tea right away. This reminded him and, as if by pure instinct, he miracled them back onto his face without so much as a second thought. Aziraphale instantly gave a small frown, leaned across the table and plucked them off of Crowley. He folded them up neatly and set them down.<br/>
“It’s just us, Crowley. You really have no reason to hide them.”<br/>
Crowley cleared his throat and looked away, “Right. Well, old habits die hard. Just used to having them on, ’s all. Plus, I know they’re not the nicest to look at.”<br/>
Aziraphale softened, “Oh, don’t say that, I love your eyes.”<br/>
Crowley froze, mug halfway to his mouth, “What?” His eyes flicked to Aziraphale’s on their own accord, “Really?”<br/>
“Yes, really,” he chuckled, “I do so hate when you wear those things to cover them up.”<br/>
“Oh.” He paused, sincerely touched, “Thank you.”</p><p>Crowley resumed movement and took a sip of tea as his head spun. Sure, he knew Aziraphale sometimes seemed like he liked Crowley’s eyes, but thinking they were alright is a completely different thing than <i>loving</i> them. He had never really been fond of them, as they were his only constant, unhidden reminder of the Fall and his ties to Hell. The only thing that humans could readily identify as out of place, wrong, scary, evil. But knowing Aziraphale liked them—loved them, even—well, he didn’t really know what to make of that. So, he simply didn’t.</p><p>“Sunglasses,” he blurted out, in an attempt to keep up appearances. “They’re called sunglasses, y’know. Not spectacles. Really, Az, they haven’t been called spectacles for ages.”<br/>
Aziraphale smiled. “Right. Sunglasses.” </p><p>They sipped their tea, content, just the two of them. When they finished, Crowley was up in an instant, whisking away the mugs to wash them. Aziraphale thought it was quite amusing how keen Crowley seemed to do all this for him. </p><p>“I should put myself in harms way more often with the way you’re doting on me,” Aziraphale teased.<br/>
“Come off it, you nearly died today.” He was drying the mugs now, turned to face Aziraphale. “Don’t let it get to your head, angel. Tomorrow, if you’re feeling better, you won’t catch me up doing the washing up ever again.”<br/>
“Oh, are you sure? What if I ask really, really nicely?” This could definitely constitute as flirting in both Aziraphale and Crowley’s minds. Neither of them drew attention to it.<br/>
“Well,” he was setting the mugs back in the cupboard now, “I guess I would have to, then. I mean, if you asked really, <i>really</i> nicely.” He grinned at Aziraphale. Aziraphale smiled back. Crowley’s heart jumped in his chest.</p><p>He sat back down at the table.<br/>
“Right then! What now? How’re you feeling?”<br/>
“I feel okay, I think. Not really up to reading, though. I’m actually quite tired. I didn’t very much like having hell’s powers wreaking havoc on my body.”<br/>
“No, no. I suspect not.” An idea struck Crowley. “Have you ever, maybe, possibly, considered…sleeping?”<br/>
Aziraphale blinked. “Well, no. I haven’t”<br/>
“Ah, right. That’s okay. Why don’t you—“<br/>
“I wouldn’t be opposed. I just don’t really know how.”<br/>
Crowley lit up with a devilish twinkle in his eye. (No pun intended.) “Well then! I think you might like it.”</p><p>And so they went, back to the bedroom, Crowley with a hand carefully steadying Aziraphale, watching for any infinitesimal wobble in his step. Luckily, Aziraphale was balanced on the way back, and if he leaned into Crowley a bit more than was necessary, that was nobody’s business but his. The bedroom had the armchair back in its rightful place and Aziraphale sat down comfily. </p><p>“Wait. Have you ever owned pyjamas?”<br/>
“Oh. No. I haven’t. Even if I had…”</p><p>It occurred to Crowley then that they hadn’t actually talked about it. The bookshop. How it was gone now. They both saw the Bentley go, but Aziraphale hadn’t even known about his bookshop until Crowley told him at the bar. In the split second he did, Aziraphale lost the happy, little corner of the world he claimed as his. Aziraphale would even go so far as to say it was both of theirs. It wasn’t just the place, but the things, too. All the magnificent books he spent so long collecting and restoring. It wasn’t an easy thing to address, and Crowley knew neither of them were up for it at the moment.</p><p>“Right. Sorry. You might have to miracle yourself something to sleep in, then.”<br/>
“No worries. I know I generally like un-miracled clothes but I can whip something up in a jiffy.”<br/>
“M’kay. Do you think you’re tired enough to sleep?”<br/>
“Yes, I think so. Although I don’t really know how tired I need to be for it to work.”<br/>
“You’ll be fine. There’s not really a wrong way to do it.”</p><p>They both miracled themselves into sleepwear. Crowley was wearing the same as the night before. Aziraphale had chosen something of a similar fashion, but it was a subtle, light brown, and instead of silk it was a soft flannel. Very Aziraphale.</p><p>“What now?” Aziraphale asked.<br/>
“Now, we sleep. I don’t think you’ll be comfortable in the armchair, so if you want to lie down on the bed like you did last night after I. Uhm. Y’know. That’d be okay with me.”<br/>
“Yes, alright. That sounds quite alright with me as well.”</p><p>And so they laid down, Crowley stretching contentedly under the covers and Aziraphale trying to get comfortable. They weren’t touching. In fact, Crowley had given Aziraphale more than enough room to ensure there was no repeat of last night’s… entanglement. </p><p>“Oh, relax, angel, just lie down, close your eyes, and let it happen. It might feel like you’re gonna lie awake forever, but I promise you, it’ll be fine.”</p><p>“Well, if worse comes to worse I simply won’t be able to sleep. I’ll miracle myself a book to read. This bed is terribly comfortable, so it’s not the worst fate in the world.” He smiled over at Crowley, who gave a soft hum of agreement. </p><p>“G’night, Az.”</p><p>“Goodnight, my dear.”</p><p>Crowley went pink at that, and was extremely thankful Aziraphale wasn’t able to see his face in the dark.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hiii again!! sorry this update is so short school has been killing me -__- some things: yes, ive decided crowley also calls aziraphale ‘az’ sometimes because its cute. also i like the idea that aziraphale uses “my dear” more sparingly. a lot of fanfic write him saying it more often (which i do love), but he doesn’t say it often in the show or the book, which makes me think that crowley gets embarrassed and gooey when aziraphale does say it. also maybe its kinda ooc for crowley to blush so much but i think he might given the fact that he is very much enamored with his angel and is flustered easily by him. that being said i hope u enjoyed chapter 3!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>